Paper Cut

Doilies laid in subdued order

TV murmurs in opposition to the buzz of those gathered in conflicting conversations

Knives and forks clang in the lukewarm bubbles rescuing bits 

and pieces that float like broken ship wrecks lost in a storm of nothingness

Thoughts fight as words struggle for relevance 

Red painted lips leave their mark as they gently caress the now empty wine glass 

Times remembered when the liquid flowed freely and the hint of  barren dryness existed far beyond the horizon 

A time when love was the mortar that worked as the foundation 

bonding our lives together

As it bonded all things making a solid base upon which to build 

It filled these now scratched and chipped glasses to the brim 

The wine  of life drank without question

In a time when the thought of home bought up more than the  image of an empty shell

And the roof solid, strong was built to protect all from the storms of life 

When walls were not stained with pain and windows were not covered black 

Locks did not hold back secrets never to be shared

A time when love had meaning

When life was more

Doilies no longer grace the table that’s now marked with stains from coffee cups and tears

Music no longer plays 

The buzz of conversation has died 

The time that was is no more

Love no longer is 

And time shall never be 

Let the wind catch the doilies 

Let them at least fly free